The Great Western Current and the Southern Lights
by musikfreakmeg
Summary: 'This story is not about the Avatar. This is about another who fought to end the Hundred Year War alongside him. This is about Katara, once the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, and the man who held her heart. Few remain who know the legend of how she and Lord Zuko of the Fire Nation changed the seas and skies forever.'


**A/N: So this was meant to be ready for the Winter Solstice, and then it ended up being 10,000 words long and now I'm posting it six days late. My bad. I think I need to just stop trying to guess how long things are going to take me, because they inevitably end up being longer or more complicated to write than expected.**

**But hey-ho, here it is.**

**Alternative titles: **

**Megan Can't Seem To Give These Poor Kids A Break**

**Zuko Swears A Lot And That's Real Fun To Write**

* * *

**Foreword**

It's dark now, little one. Time to come inside.

Yes, I know it's early yet – that is the nature of the Winter Solstice. But do you know what we do now?

Now, we tell stories to pass the Longest Night.

So come and sit by the fire – let the flames hold back the dark, cuddle in close – and I'll tell you the story of the Great Western Current and the Southern Lights.

* * *

**Prologue (I)**

Long ago, the seas around the South Pole raged fierce and fatal, a behemoth still running frantic after some slight long since faded from living memory.

During the day, the waterbenders of our tribe were able to calm the waves enough that our ancestors could fish, and it was only when a person became foolhardy that they fell prey to the draw of the depths. But as the sun would leave its place in the sky, so too would the tribespeople leave the ebb and flow of the tides and return to the shore, hastening back to their homes before darkness fell.

For the night was a beast that swallowed any trace of light from the sky, concealing any number of dangers in its shroud so that no one could hope to attempt to navigate the waters and live to speak of it, waterbender or otherwise. Those who came and went did so by air, or with the aid of a firebender to lead the way through the dark.

This is not the world as you know it – to your mind, the sea is a friend, the night lit up by the aurora – and tonight you will find out why. Tonight you will hear what changed it all.

* * *

**Prologue (II)**

Long ago, the four nations were at war. A brutal, furious war full of fire and smoke, where the land was scorched and scarred, and whole civilisations almost lost forever.

Then everything changed when the Avatar was found.

That's a story you already know, the story of the boy in the iceberg, and even though Avatar Aang is long since passed, you recognise his face – his likeness can be seen in your schoolbooks, the portrait that hangs in our town hall, gracing statues all around the world.

But this story is not about the Avatar. This is about another who fought to end the Hundred Year War alongside him. This is about Katara, once the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, and the man who held her heart. You will have heard of her before – she is, after all, just as famous as Aang – but few remain who know the legend of how she and Lord Zuko of the Fire Nation changed the seas and skies forever.

* * *

**The Road Less Travelled By (I)**

The end of the world begins with the knee-buckling weight of Aang in her arms.

He is gone, limp and lifeless in her hold, the sickening smell of seared flesh rising off him. Chest still, eyes glassy, Aang is gone, and the world is lost.

But Zuko is yelling at her to _get out, what the hell are you doing, leave_, his voice lifting desperate and vicious over the thunder of battle.

Zuko_,_ who has tormented their gang again and again, a harbinger of danger and chaos who follows them wherever they go.

Zuko_,_ who has been burned and banished, whose face she was – just minutes ago – brushing with fingertips that might hold the power to free him of his mark forever.

_Zuko_, who is inconceivably, impossibly, covering her against his sister's fire and _begging_ her to escape with the boy who would once have been his prize.

Katara's head is clouded by smoke and loss, but the shock of his words cuts through, and she finds it in herself to move as the battle unfolds before her in snapshots which lodge into the crevasses of her mind.

She can taste salt on her tongue, and a strangely detached part of her wonders why the channel that runs through the catacombs is seawater before she realises she's crying.

She stumbles as she tries to drag Aang to safety, shaking and grief-stricken – what safety can there possibly be for him? – and she can't carry him but she _has_ to carry him but she _can't_, and she hears her own voice pierce shrill with panic through the barrage.

Zuko doesn't show any sign of having heard her, giving everything he has to the fight before him. There are too many of them, too many of them, and he's just been managing to hold them off but now he's at breaking point, he's faltering, he's falling.

A burst of flame from above heralds their salvation as the Fire Prince's uncle plants himself between them and the onslaught, and it gives Zuko the opening he needs to find his feet and sprint to her side, taking Aang's weight into his own arms.

'What are- Why are you-?'

'Shut up. Just... _fuck,_ just shut up and get out before I change my mind.'

Now his uncle is the one shouting the order to leave, not just to her but to him too, and she can see, she can see it flashing in Zuko's eyes that this is not a command he intends to follow. But they've reached the waterfall, and Aang's body still rests in his arms, and the Dai Li are starting to break through the older man's defence. So she moves, with all the sureness of someone who doesn't have the luxury of being unsure.

Any other time, the embrace of the water would feel like a comfort. But that was before.

They break through into the still of the night, and somehow the others are there, ready to fly them away, but-

'What the _fuck_ did you just do?'

Zuko is all rage, soaked and seething, a furnace blazing in his eyes as he spins to face her.

'That was my uncle down there and you-... Gods, you stupid, selfish _bitch_-...'

Not all rage. Pain. A different kind of loss to the one she's feeling, but loss all the same.

He's still carrying Aang, and part of her wonders if he even realises that the boy who was his quarry for so long now sits in his hold. Then he steps forwards, pressing Aang's unmoving form towards her, and his arms are trembling.

'Take him. I'm going back, so take him now before I drop him here, and then get the hell away from me or else I swear by Agni I'll do something that you'll regret.'

But she doesn't move from where she stands, doesn't reach out to take Aang's weight back from Zuko. Because his scarred face is filling her vision, and it sparks a thought – a miniscule bead of hope that she doesn't dare look at directly.

'You don't believe me, do you? You think I give a shit what you-'

'Shut up.'

'My uncle is down there and-'

He falls quiet as she pulls the vial out from her tunic. He knows what it is, what it means.

_It has special properties, so I've been saving it for something important._

Her fingers are shaking so hard that it takes her a second to unstop the small bottle and bring the water inside streaming out, but then it's there and it's coating her hands and-

'Katara! What's going on, we need to-... What's _he_ doing-... Wait... Wait, _Aang_-'

'Shut _up._'

* * *

**The Road Less Travelled By (II)**

Aang's first breath makes her weak with relief, a single sob escaping her as he stirs, just barely, in the Fire Prince's arms.

It's enough. He's alive, and, for now, it's enough.

Zuko's eyes are wide, his anger momentarily yielding to wonder as he stares down at a boy brought back to life.

'He's- You-' Then his face hardens again, and his voice turns brittle. 'Great, you've got your precious Avatar back. If you don't take him now, I will.'

Their gazes meet, and his eyes are molten gold against the black of the night, furious and afraid and uncertain. Reaching out, Katara gently takes Aang back into her own arms, then watches as Zuko turns to follow the river back down into the catacombs.

Looking back, even years later with all the clarity of hindsight on her side, she'll make any number of guesses as to what made her do it, all of them perhaps parts of a single truth.

But in the moment, as she watches him run away, there's no conscious thought to be had – something stirs in her gut and climbs up her throat, and the words are out before she's even tasted them on her tongue.

'What are you expecting to achieve? You think you have any chance of helping him?' And when Zuko doesn't turn, she shouts louder. '_He gave himself up for you_. He gave himself up so that you could get away. So you could come with us.'

His figure, dim now in the darkness, stops, and she calls after him again.

'You're just going to get yourself caught if you go back. Or worse. And then you still won't be able to help him and his sacrifice will have been for nothing.'

He turns then, stalking back in her direction with all the intensity of a polar leopard after prey, and she thrusts Aang into Sokka's hold before moving forwards to meet his advance.

'Katara, what the hell is he doing here? What are you thinking?'

'Save it, Sokka.'

She ignores the strangled noise her brother makes in response, refusing to flinch as she and Zuko converge and he draws himself up to stand menacingly over her, his voice low and dangerous.

'You. You gods-damned... You don't know _shit_ about me or my uncle. You don't know _anything_. So shut your mouth because I'm just about done giving you chances to leave.'

As if to demonstrate his point, a flame erupts in his palm, held close enough to her face that she instinctively pulls back from the heat. Katara hears her brother shout a warning from behind her, but she holds up a hand in both reassurance and reprimand, eyes not shifting from the face in front of her that now flickers with orange light.

'Fine. You're right, I don't know him. So you tell me – what would he want? What would _he_ say you should do?'

The firebender inhales, stepping away from her just a little. He's softer all of a sudden, more vulnerable, and she knows that her instincts about his uncle were correct. The old man is where the boy from the catacombs – the boy without a mother, the boy who's searching for his own path – finds his home.

The seconds stretch out, and he's not saying anything, but his face is doing all the talking for him and what can she do but respond?

'The Dai Li will be swarming the place any minute now. None of us should be here when that happens.'

He still doesn't speak, indecision weighing heavy in his eyes, and she huffs slightly, exasperation mingling with a strange kind of anticipation. This moment, right now, feels somehow vital, as if something in her is saying that the way things go in the next ten seconds will make all the difference.

All she can do is trust her intuition. Trust, and hope that it's guiding her well.

'Get on the bison.'

'I'm not-'

'Zuko. Get on the bison.'

His nostrils flare, jaw juts, and she can see the argument rising in his face, the obstinacy. But she glowers back, just as immovable, and all at once the strength seems to seep from him, leaving only desolation and a deep, consuming weariness in its wake.

Sokka balks as the firebender approaches, glaring incredulously at Katara.

'Close your mouth, Sokka, you'll start catching spider-flies.'

'What are you- Katara, what the hell do you think you're doing? _Zuko_? Seriously, have you lost your mind? No, no, I'm not-'

'You think we've got time to argue about this right now? Sokka, you just... You just need to trust me on this. Please, just... We need to go.'

He crosses his arms and lifts his chin, anger and confusion permeating the air around him.

'No. I can't just go along with this, not after everything he's done. The guy's hunted us for _months_, Katara, give me one good reason why we should take him with us right now.'

Something snaps in her, and her voice turns sharp.

'Okay, fine, how about this – he knows Aang's alive. Right now, everyone else thinks he's dead, including his sister who'll report back to their father. This could be our one chance to get a step ahead of the Fire Lord. You really want _him_ out of our sight knowing what he knows?'

That quiets him. Sokka deliberates for a moment, jaw sliding from side to side as his mind works, and then he inhales deeply and gives a grudging nod before climbing up to sit at Appa's reins, shooting Zuko a suspicious scowl over his shoulder as he goes.

Toph offers nothing but a raise of her brow as Katara clambers up next to her. Settling into a spot near the front, the waterbender lifts Aang's head into her lap and closes her eyes against the night that shrouds their departure from Ba Sing Se.

The air rushes past her, and the son of the Fire Lord sits as far from her on the saddle as he can manage, knees curled up into his chest as he stares out to the sky, and everything feels different.

* * *

**On Enemy Tides**

'They'll come around.'

Zuko doesn't respond, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he storms towards the doors. Katara can feel the eyes of the others boring into her back as she follows him across the deck, and then they're stepping out of the heat of the day and winding their way down into the depths of their stolen Fire Nation vessel.

'Zuko, you're not helping anything by walking away from this. They don't trust you yet, they didn't see what happened, but they _will_ come around. If you put in the effort to show them-'

He rounds on her, face twisted in a sneer, voice bitter and scathing.

'Gods, would you just shut up already? I don't care whether they trust me, I don't give a damn what any of you think. I am _not_ one of you. I'm not your friend, I'm not your ally, I'm not on your side, so stop acting like I am.'

'Okay, so what are you? Go on, explain it to me and I'll leave you alone.'

'I don't need to explain anything to you.'

She sighs, speeding up her pace slightly so that she's right on his heels as they turn off the stairs.

'Look, everything happened so quickly down in those tunnels and I'm sure it must all be really confusing, but maybe you should start thinking about why you did what you did and-'

He stops suddenly, whirling around to face her, and she almost trips over him before managing to right herself.

'_Start_? Gods, you- It's all I _can_ think about, you condescending-'

'And?'

'And _what_?'

'And what have you come up with? Why did you help us, what are you doing here, why-'

'I don't know! Is that it, is that what you want me to say? I don't- I just- I don't know what I'm meant to do now, I don't know what I'm meant to _be_ anymore, but I know I'm not part of your little gang so get the hell off my back.'

The corridor is cramped and narrow, and she can feel the heat that he exudes start to intensify as his voice rises.

It's strange, standing before him in this small space and not feeling afraid.

Or rather, he still scares her, but not in the way he used to. He's no longer the hunter, no longer the villain – not a monster, but an animal backed into a dead end, scared and snarling and all too ready to bite anyone who tries to get too close.

She's probably too close right now.

'Well, I guess it's a good thing you haven't left yourself with many options.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It means you're going on about how you're not on our side and you don't know what to do, but you already made your choice back in Ba Sing Se. You're with us now, whether you like it or not, no matter how it happened, and as far as I can see you can't undo it – there's no way back for you from here so maybe you should just accept that and _try_ going forwards.'

He lets out a humourless bark of a laugh.

'That simple, is it? Is this a hobby of yours, acting like you're the gods-damned greatest thing to happen to everyone on the fucking planet?'

'I don't know, do you make a habit of refusing to ever take responsibility for your own actions?'

They stand, deadlocked, for a few long seconds before he turns abruptly from her and stalks away down the corridor, spitting out a warning as he goes.

'Do _not_ follow me.'

She doesn't. But she does watch him go and, not for the first time, finds herself wondering if it was the right decision to pull him along with her, to convince him to join them in their escape - he's sullen and uncompromising, quick to anger, and far too recognisable, but above all else he's undeniably dangerous and still clearly unconvinced that he's not their enemy. She knows that everyone else on board, Sokka first and foremost, thinks that she's gone insane.

And perhaps she has.

But then, was there ever an alternative? Could she ever really have left him to struggle and fight against insurmountable odds in her defence, this inexplicable, unpredictable boy?

It's like she said to him – he's with them now, no matter how it happened.

He isn't the only one who's made a choice that can't be taken back.

* * *

**Interlude (I)**

Isn't it strange, the way your heart can know something long before your head does?

The way some deep, unfathomable part of your spirit can reach out and nudge you one way or the other in a single infinitesimal second?

The way you can think you're on one path your whole life, only to find yourself halfway down a different one, past the point of no return, with no idea how you got there?

* * *

**Dancing**

Music echoes off the walls of the cave, mixing with the excited laughter of the Fire Nation children who've stowed away to its cover until the whole place seems to reverberate with sound. It's deafening, but unmistakably joyous, and Katara feels a broad grin stretching her face as she makes her way through the crowd towards the firebender.

She hasn't missed the way he's been sitting, back pressed flush against the rough wall as if trying to disappear into the rock, in a secluded corner of the cave since the party began, and part of her still sits heavy and anxious about travelling through Fire Nation territory with someone as distinctly noticeable as the country's crown prince.

Zuko keeps his eyes resolutely fixed on the movements of the throng behind her as she comes to a stop in front of him.

'You're sure that it's safe for you to be here? No one's going to recognise you?'

He answers in a monotone, gaze still unmoving.

'It's safe. I never spent a lot of time outside the palace.' His fingers drift absentmindedly to the edge of the scar on his face as he speaks. 'And I look pretty different from all the official portraits now.'

'Ah. Right.'

Pausing, Katara takes a moment to scrutinise him, the way his expression remains flat even faced with the energy of the underground party. She catches herself frowning – yet again – and thinks briefly that she must have forged a new furrow in her brow that belongs entirely to the Fire Prince after all the time she's spent trying to figure him out.

Letting out a sigh, she steps forwards and sinks to a sit against the cavern wall a couple of feet away from him.

'Would it be stupid of me to ask whether or not you're planning on joining in at all?'

That tugs his eyes away from the party, and the scowl that he shoots her is answer enough... which is why she's caught off-balance when he makes his own offering to the conversation, sharp as it is.

'I thought you were meant to be on a schedule.'

'We are. We still are. This is just... an unexpected addition.'

'It's ridiculous.'

'It's fun, and it's making people happy. It's important.'

'Fun is an indulgence. All it does it get in the way of accomplishing the things that actually matter.'

The cadence of his voice makes it clear that the words aren't his own, echoed from somewhere deep and formative.

'You... Do you really believe that or is it just what you were told growing up? You never had fun when you were a kid?'

His eyes flicker to meet hers for a moment before going back to skimming across the crowd, as if the answer to her question might be hidden in its movements. A few long seconds pass before he speaks again, and then his voice is low, deliberately terse.

'When I was younger. Before my mother disappeared.'

His mother. He hasn't mentioned her since the catacombs, since that first moment when he reached past Katara's anger and bared the unexpected connection that sparked everything that followed. And Katara hasn't brought it up, either – despite all her clearly unwelcome attempts to break through his hostility, the subject of his mother has always felt out of bounds. She knows first-hand that some things cut too deep to be used in argument.

'Would she have liked this?'

Zuko's face saddens, softens just a little under the touch of whatever memories are running through his mind.

'Yeah, she would.'

'Then maybe it's not so bad after all.'

This time, the glare that he sends her way doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Silence – or as much silence as there can be in a cave full of dancing, gossiping schoolchildren – falls between them. Katara turns her attention to the space that's cleared in the middle of the crowd, and her eyes find Aang and Sokka hopping their way through something that looks less like a dance and more like a jesting, stylised spar.

The sight makes her laugh, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Zuko grimace.

'He's meant to be the most powerful person in the world and he's prancing around like a fucking tiger monkey.'

The jab is devoid of any real venom, said as if by rote – a long-held reflex that's lost its emotional punch – and somehow it brings more laughter bubbling out of her. She finds herself nudging him lightly with her elbow, a strangely easy show of contact which any other time might have felt dangerous.

'What have you got to lose by joining in?'

'My dignity.'

'Well, given all the temper tantrums you've had I'm not sure you've got all that much left anyway.'

The scowl makes its way back to his face with zeal, and she rolls her eyes in a way that – if she were to dwell on it more – might feel perilously close to fond before pushing herself up from the ground and starting towards the spot where Aang and Sokka are beckoning her over.

As she leaves, she calls back to him over her shoulder.

'Give it a shot.'

He doesn't, but as the evening wears on she watches the precarious smile that creeps onto his lips, the way he starts to sway – just a bit, seemingly unintentionally – to the music that fills the cavern.

She watches the way that he floats off on the memories of someone who might once have pulled him into the throng and twirled him, laughing, across the floor.

And, based on what little knowledge Katara has about the lost Fire Lady, she's pretty sure that's a good thing.

* * *

**Those Who Do Not Learn From History**

Their murmured words drift up into the air like tendrils of smoke from where they sit, away from where the others sleep.

It's become a kind of regular occurrence, the two of them talking at night once everyone else has slipped away – rarely for long, and often weaving through topics of little consequence, but now it almost feels like part of the night-time routine, just as much as cleaning out the cooking pot or banking the campfire.

He's still short-tempered and stubborn a lot of the time, and even his best moods come with a lingering sense of stiltedness, like he's still uncertain about forging any genuine connections in the gang. But he's worked his way around from coarse and mean to something decidedly more civil, and Katara can see the rest of the group responding to that, at least a little. Even Sokka's finding more reason to engage with the firebender, picking at Zuko's knowledge of the Fire Nation as he plans for the Day of Black Sun.

At night, though, it's just the two of them, batting conversation back and forth under cover of the dark, and tonight they have more to talk about than usual.

'Aang said once that he wondered if the two of you could've been friends. You know, if things were different.'

'You think that would've changed anything?' There's no malice in Zuko's voice, just a quiet sincerity that makes him sound both younger and older than his sixteen years. 'Sozin and Roku were friends, and they still ended up on opposite sides.'

'Do you think Sozin was right? Would you have done what he did?'

A long pause, his forehead furrowing under the question.

'No. I don't think I-... I hope not.' He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and his words come slow and thick as if his mind and his mouth are struggling to work together. 'I've been trying to prove myself to my father my whole life, but... I've never... I don't think I've ever been what he wanted me to be. I could never see things the way he could, and he knew that.'

Katara holds her breath for a few seconds before releasing it into the night. She can feel the precipice that he's on, feel him teetering at the edge of something huge, and all she can do is hope that somewhere in him he has what he needs to face the fall.

'So you're different from him. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?'

Another pause, even longer this time.

_Come on, Zuko. Come on._

'Good.' His voice becomes surer, more solid, and she breathes easier. 'It's like Aang was saying before – Roku was just as much Fire Nation as Sozin, but he chose a different path. My uncle was the same, he... My father isn't a good man. I don't want to be like him.'

The words settle like new-fallen snow over footprints, soft and pure, covering up what came before and whispering with the potential of a second chance to make a mark.

'Do you think he's ever questioned the path he's on?'

This time, his answer is immediate.

'No. Never.'

'But you have.'

'Yes.'

'And now you're here, travelling with the Avatar.'

'Yes.'

She can almost hear the way he's letting things tick over in his mind, working through to a conclusion that releases into the night air with all the soft solemnity of someone in the final steps of change.

'Maybe... Maybe this is all part of what Roku was trying to show Aang; maybe we're meant to do it over, differently this time. Do it the right way.'

Not wanting to disturb the delicacy of his thoughts, all Katara does is echo him.

'Maybe.'

The next morning, he seems lighter.

She sees it in the small things – the way he's quicker to laugh than before, slower to snap, looser in the curve of his shoulders and the cut of his jaw. Then, when she settles down to start on dinner in the evening, he finds a place next to her in front of the fire and waits for her instruction to feed or dim the flames.

More than once, Katara catches herself turning from her chopping to study his face, marvelling at how much of a difference a single story can make. He seems calmer, more relaxed, more secure in where he is – a mind finally reconciled with what had become his truth weeks before.

* * *

**Interlude (II)**

Acceptance takes two forms, each vital in their own way – that which comes from others, and that which comes from ourselves.

Almost by accident, although not without toil, the defected prince of the Fire Nation managed to find both during the time he spent with those who had once been his enemies.

* * *

**Dark Side Of The Moon**

Hama's words ring in her head long after the old waterbender is pulled away. The others are spread out across Appa's saddle, long since fallen asleep, but she sits awake and unmoving.

_Congratulations, Katara. You're a bloodbender._

Hours have passed, the night dragging on, and still the full moon hasn't started to fade. For the first time in her life, Katara wishes it would.

The energy that ripples through her, that flows out of her when she bends, has always been something that feels like a gift. She's spent her life floating atop its currents and riding its crests, searching for ways to reach higher, surge faster, swim further.

Now she's caught in a riptide, adrift on an ocean that's trying to toss her asunder, the waves so vast and insurmountable that the control she holds on her course seems to slip more and more with every moment.

The ride is terrifying.

But the exhilaration is worse.

Because what does it make her, the thrill that she felt when she sank into the deepest, darkest parts of herself and dragged up something terrible? What does it say about who she is, the part of her that wants to let go and allow her to be sucked back down to the depths?

She's not sure what draws him to her – whether he's noticed the way she's holding on for dear life or just has his own understanding of what it feels like to be on this particular sea – but Zuko is sinking into place next to her before Katara even registers that he's awake.

'Are you-'

He hesitates, obviously not wanting to ask something so simple when the answer is clearly anything but.

'You didn't do anything wrong.'

'I controlled her, Zuko. I _bent_ her _blood_, I forced her body to move against her will.'

It's sad, how reassured she feels by the shudder of revulsion that still runs down her spine at the words.

'You used what you had to keep us safe. The same way any of us would.'

'I thought we were so similar, me and her.' He's silent, and it strikes her that it's because she still has more to say. 'What if we really are? She's hurt so many people.'

'So has my father. But you believe that I can be different.'

She turns to meet his eyes, and finds some small serenity in the fact that, amongst all the uncertainty that clings to her, here is an answer she feels sure of.

'I do.'

'And you don't have to be like her.'

When did his words become something that brought comfort? When was the moment that he stopped being the source of her fear, and instead became a sanctuary from it?

Somehow, in the dark of the night, with the wind rushing past them and stealing away their words as soon as they're spoken, she finds the will to voice what she's been trying to pretend isn't true.

'I felt powerful.'

His answer comes firm, saturated with feeling.

'You are powerful. That was true before tonight. You've always had the ability to hurt people, if you wanted to.'

She knows he's right, that this new ability is just one more in a lethal arsenal that has been at her disposal for months now, but with the pitching of the waves beneath her she's struggling to keep reason in her grip.

Then his hand finds hers, eyes fixed on her face for any sign of protest, and slowly he brings it up to rest on his chest where his heart beats against his ribs – his heart that he knows, with the full moon still hanging bright and expectant in the sky, she could stop in a second without warning.

This is the way he chooses to show her the kind of person he knows her to be, and she feels tears sting in her eyes at the simplicity of his faith, the gravity.

They sit for a long time, Zuko's whole body singing with the rivers that run under his skin – his hand is warm and on hers, a lifeline that tethers her to solid ground, and she listens to his song until the storm that carries her calms to its call.

* * *

**The Shadows (I)**

The invasion is a disaster, no matter how much their father tries to paint it in a positive light – with the whole fleet of submarines destroyed, their target still standing, and all but a small part of their forces lost to the Fire Nation, Katara can't quite bring herself to see any kind of silver lining.

As the few of them that still walk free make their home in the Western Air Temple, the sky is solemn and heavy above them, and at first discussion is minimal. Any noise seems too loud in the silence, echoing off the vast stone walls of the gravity-defying settlement they've claimed as their own.

But they're all shaken and upset, and it's not too long before everyone starts seeking solace in each other. As conversations start to bloom across the temple floor, Katara finds herself caught up in-between Sokka and Zuko.

'I don't know, man, you're lucky I think you're alright. If this had happened a couple of months back I'd be on your ass for giving us false information. _Shit_, how did things go so wrong?'

The Fire Prince runs a hand back through his hair, rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

'Azula knew I was with you guys. She'll have guessed that I've been helping you. And I always said that I haven't been party to Fire Nation tactics for years. It probably _was_ false information, I just didn't know it.'

Sokka pulls a face.

'Remind me not to get you involved in any future planning if you're going to be that useless every time. No offence.'

Zuko's eyebrow quirks and the ghost of a smile pulls at his lips.

'You sure about that?'

'Eh, maybe some offence. Someone's got to take you down a few pegs.'

Katara rolls her eyes as Sokka spots Teo waving at him from the other side of the temple floor, and she and Zuko are left standing alone as he runs off to talk to the mechanist's son. After a few seconds of watching the tribesman's retreating figure, Zuko tilts his head towards Katara.

'I think he's warming to me.'

She snorts, nudging him lightly with her elbow, then feels her smile dim as the events of the day crowd back in.

'I'm sorry you didn't find your uncle.'

His face pinches in a grimace, and he lets out a slow breath before speaking.

'It's okay. I know he's alive, and he made it out by himself. That... That's enough.'

And it's not enough, not really, but they're all telling themselves the things they need to hear to keep going –

'I'm sorry about your dad.'

'We've found him before. We'll find him again. Him and your uncle.'

– like that.

'It was a stupid idea to go hunting through the palace. If I'd run into my father... It probably wouldn't have been good.'

Even with everything she knows about the Fire Lord, Katara still stumbles over his implication.

'You really think he'd do that? He'd fire at his own son?'

'It wouldn't be the first time.'

She frowns and turns to face him fully, on the verge of asking what he means, but then her eyes alight on the scar that flares across his face and a sickening realisation sweeps through her.

'No.' The thought rises bitter in her throat and she rebels hard against it, trying to push it back down. 'No, Zuko, tell me I'm misunderstanding this.' His silence speaks volumes, his face carefully neutral as hers collapses more and more into something tight and quiet and furious. 'He did that to you. He's the one who- _Fuck_, he- I- He's lucky we didn't find him today.'

She doesn't ask what happened – how could the details possibly matter? – but Zuko lays the story out before her anyway, and distantly she wonders at how easily they've come to share these parts of themselves with each other.

'I spoke against him at a war tribunal. Disagreed with his plans to use a novice division as bait in a battle plan. He didn't like that.'

'And that's how he punished you? For trying to protect your own people? That's-'

But there are no words, and everything in her is shaking with anger and grief, and what is there to do other than slip her arms around him and draw him tight against her? For a moment he stands tense and awkward in her embrace, rigid with the newness of being held with such fierce affection, but then he lets out a long, slow breath that's hot and against her ear and his hands come up to slide flush across the curves of her back.

If the others think it's strange, the way they stand holding each other for several drawn out moments, no one says anything.

* * *

**The Sunlight (II)**

'Gods, you're rubbish at this.'

'It's the wind! Okay, this time I'm gonna get it, watch.'

They're sat crossed-legged in front of each other, breeze sweeping gently over them, the rest of the gang at various stages of exploring the temple in which they've found refuge.

Katara tosses another peanut up into the air above her, quickly shifting across the floor to try and catch it in her mouth as it comes back down. Zuko breaks into sniggers as, yet again, the nut bounces off her forehead and skitters away across the stone.

'Look, I know you hate being bad at shit, but do you think maybe you should just call it a day?'

'Stop laughing at me!'

Her rebuke is undermined completely by the fact that she's beginning to laugh herself, any attempt to stem the sound failing miserably. Rising into a kneel, she reaches forwards to cuff him indignantly on the shoulder, and he returns fire with a prod to a sensitive spot on her ribs that sparks through her like static.

'Ah, Zuko!'

'Don't start something you can't finish, waterbender.'

'You're one to talk.'

He takes aim for a second jab, and as she catches hold of his fingers in an effort to defend herself she's almost pulled forwards onto him by his own bid to evade her grasp. His free hand flies out to steady her, but they still end up close enough that she's able to drop her head against his shoulder as the two of them all but collapse into laughter.

It takes them a while to calm, the stresses of the day only fuelling their hilarity, but eventually Katara manages to sit back on her heels and regain enough composure to breathe properly. Zuko's face is alight, and she basks in the glow of it, the openness. It's a complete contradiction to the narrow-eyed sneer that used to twist at his features.

Their fingers are still tangled together, dark on light – her gaze drops down study the lines that curve across his palm, and a light, fluttering sensation that's not entirely unfamiliar rises in her chest.

'Zuko?'

'Yeah?'

Just in that one word, his voice still holds the remnants of his laugh. She thinks it's been a while since she heard anything quite so lovely.

'Even with how awful the war is, do you think it's possible for good things to come from it?'

'Yeah...' Then, with more conviction. 'Yes. If it weren't for the war, I might never have stood up to my father.'

'He might not have been the way he is now. You might not have needed to stand up to him.'

'No. I don't think that has anything to do with the war. It's just who he is.'

Without warning, a terrible screeching noise tears through the air, all too reminiscent of the battle they flew away from just hours ago, and his hand tightens over hers as the two of them twist in the direction of the sound.

They're met with the sight of Toph parading her metalbending powers in front of Haru and The Duke, the two Earth Kingdom boys staring in awe at the towering temple door that's pivoting slowly closed under her guidance. Zuko's lips quirk upwards, his shoulders relaxing, and he jerks his head towards the green-clad group.

'She wouldn't be able to do that, if it weren't for the war.'

Katara smiles, slipping back into their game again.

'Sokka wouldn't have met Suki.'

'I might not have met you.'

The words are spoken without any hint of gravity, as if there's no distinction between what he's just said and everything that came before it, but there's a sudden weight, a sudden intensity to his gaze that makes her feel like the stone is shifting beneath her.

Everything focusses in, distils down to the look on his face and the grazing of her fingers across the calluses of his palm. She casts around for words, but all that she can find in the slow turning of her mind is–

'Your hands are always really warm.'

He blinks.

'I mean, I make fire with them, so yeah.'

She's already feeling lightheaded; the eye roll that she sends to the ceiling only makes it worse.

'Okay, smartass.'

He chuckles, and the sound is deeper, breathier than usual – it runs like a shiver through her, and Katara knows with utmost certainty that she can't meet his eyes right now, that she isn't ready for the way this insistent tugging deep inside her will respond if she does.

So she keeps her gaze fixed on his hand, her touch running across the pads of his fingertips, the roughened skin at the heel of his palm, the delicate network of veins that decorates the pale smoothness of his wrist.

'Doing that will only make it worse.'

'Do you want me to stop?'

'I didn't say that.'

She does lift her eyes then, the draw too strong to deny any longer, and his stare is full of heat and heart and feels as though it's stripping everything away until all that's left is her. His lips part, the soft tick of his tongue coming off the roof of his mouth much louder than it should be in the strange, hyperalert non-silence that surrounds them, and he takes in a breath to speak-

'Hey, Katara, you've gotta come see this!'

Sokka's shout feels like the first moment of breaking back through the water's surface after being submerged – suddenly she's jolted out of slow motion, back to the air that rushes into her lungs, back to the noise and light and chill of the real world.

* * *

**Cloudburst**

'Do you regret it?'

It's not clear what Zuko means – whether he's asking about the trip as a whole or her decision to spare Yon Rha's life. Not that it makes any difference to her answer.

'I- I don't know.'

He was the one who insisted they stop for the night, urging Appa earthwards and landing them at the edge of a quiet copse, sheltered from the rain that still comes down in bursts. She knows that it's because he's worried about her, that his firmness is borne from the fact that she hasn't slept properly since they set out from camp the day before, but she wonders if he also has a suspicion that she's not quite ready to face the others yet, that she needs a little time to try to make sense of herself.

And it's not something that's going to happen overnight – she probably won't really be able to face delving into it all for a while yet – but the gesture alone makes her feel just a little more understood, and it helps.

'She'd be proud of you, who you are. I know I never knew her, but... she would.'

Zuko doesn't say anything else after that, doesn't try to open her up or unravel her thoughts. He doesn't tell her everything's going to be okay.

He does wind an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close into his side and resting his chin on top of her head, and he's warmer than the fire that crackles bright against the dark before them.

* * *

**Interlude (III)**

Love is an enigmatic creature, you know. It's a trickster, a mischief-maker, something that creeps up behind you and slips under your skin before you have the chance to notice.

But most of all it's a shapeshifter. That's the thing that makes it so hard to recognise. After all, with so many possible forms for it to take, is it really that surprising that someone can love a person for a lifetime without ever understanding exactly what that means?

Sometimes it takes something momentous, something that tips the world on its axis to clear the vision, to jolt everything into place.

This wasn't one of those times. Surely only a fool could be blind to the workings of our heroes' hearts by this point in our story? Surely only a fool could misunderstand the way they called to each other? Katara and Zuko were not fools.

What they were was confused, and tentative, and caught in the chaos of a war, and you'll struggle to find a more potent barrier to love than that. Don't underestimate the heady power that the universe holds to bring two people together and suspend them apart all at once.

But this is, first and foremost, a love story. So love must have its moment.

* * *

**Syzygy**

It's the moment she realises his hands are cold to touch that she thinks he's truly lost. The heat, so defining, so essential to who he is, has seeped from his skin, and panic engulfs her like something physical and suffocating.

_No. No, no, no, I can't-_

She refuses to let it happen again, for another person in her life to give up everything protecting her.

The smell of burnt flesh bleeds into the air around them, a smell that she remembers all too clearly from the catacombs, and she sobs in desperation at the memory of Aang lying lifeless in her arms – she managed to save him that day, but now she kneels in front of a firebender whose skin is growing colder with each passing second, and she has no Spirit Water, and her hands are trembling so hard that holding them still over the mess of Zuko's chest feels like a nearly insurmountable challenge.

_Tui and La, help me. Help me heal him, don't let him go._

And the water glows under her will, and his seared flesh is mended, and somehow her prayer is heard.

She doesn't cry until the moment that the colour, the heat, blooms back into his face, and then when she does he lifts a shaking hand to wipe at the wetness on her cheeks, his thumb tracing clumsily over her smoke-cracked lips as she helps him to sit.

His touch makes her breath catch in her chest, and his eyes are burning with something that she can't let herself name, and she's scared – terrified – of hurting him, but he's drawing her down towards him and how could she ever pull away?

It's not the right moment, surrounded by burning debris, in the middle of the battleground where Zuko almost lost his life, but then when will it ever be?

The kiss is brief, soft, _vital_. His fingers trace down the side of her face carefully, _so_ carefully, like she's the one who has just arched back into life rather than him, and her hand at his back curls into the fabric of his tunic as a shiver makes its way down the length of her spine.

She thinks that from now on her heart might beat with a rhythm that is not its own, keeping time instead with the tempo that drums through his veins.

* * *

**Interlude (IV)**

You see how it happens, child? How two people born of separate substance can find they share the same heart, if they only pay close enough attention?

No, I know. We haven't yet come to the matter of the seas and skies that I spoke of before. But now we shall, for fate hasn't quite finished its harsh work on our young heroes. Sometimes, the world is not willing to accept the governance of something it cannot see, something far greater but far less tangible than itself, and so it carves out its own cruel path.

I'm afraid that this is what comes next in our story.

* * *

**Dying Light**

Before, Katara thinks, stillness always used to mean calm, peace.

But not now.

This is a different kind of stillness from the one she knows. This numb, hollow paralysis is something else entirely, something that fogs her mind and deadens her limbs and reduces everything to a thready, keening vibrato around her.

Because the congregation is on its feet, and Zuko is standing at the top of the steps, and–

Oh, _gods_

– the new Fire Lady is taking her place beside him, smiling genially as the crowd cheers.

The omiai was swift and exacting, Zuko caught up and swept along in the chaos of his coronation, plans for post-war efforts, his new duties as Fire Lord. And as much as his uncle tried to protect him from the flood, this was one matter around which the Fire Sages were clear:

_The Fire Lord must have a Lady. In this trying time, the people must have stability. They must have confidence in their royal family. They must see that the throne is secure._

And now it is.

She avoids him for the rest of the day, finding something else to focus her attention on every time he comes near, some reason to walk in the opposite direction. And she can see how hurt he is, can see what a terrible position he's been placed in, but there's no way for her to be around him without crumbling and she can't crumble _can't_ crumble right now.

The parts that hold her upright are collapsing, disintegrating under the burden of his gaze from across the room, and so she does the only thing she knows how to do in this moment and seeks solace in the sea.

It's a short walk from the grand hall of the palace down to the waterfront. At the edge of the sea, the breeze is calm and cool and the air smells like salt, and even though it doesn't help her to untangle everything in her head, Katara does find it easier not to think at all as she stands before the open water.

At least, that is, until footsteps come up behind her. She doesn't turn around, but there's a quaking in her chest that tells her exactly who it is.

'I knew you'd be down here.'

'Leave me alone, Zuko.'

'I'm not going to do that. You know I'm not going to do that.'

'Why not? You've got plenty of people up there who-'

'Agni, Katara, you think I give a shit about them? Those people, they aren't my friends. They aren't- You've been ignoring me. Every time I-'

'You're imagining things.'

His voice starts to rise, anger rippling through his words. She can't blame him.

'Don't give me that crap. You've not said a word to me all day and I- Katara, I-'

He lets out a laugh that's somewhere between exasperated and bitter, and the trembling in her chest pulls stronger, welling up into her throat until it feels as though she's choking.

'Fucking hell, Katara, can you at least look at me? Why can't you look at-'

'Because I love you!'

The confession spills out her, ringing out into the still of the fading day as she spins to face him. He falls silent, and she gestures helplessly, words lost to her for a moment now that the thing she's been trying so hard not to say has finally broken free.

'I-... I love you. I _love_ you. And now you're married, and I can't _breathe_, Zuko, I can't breathe when I'm around you, and I-...'

Her chest is too tight, too constricted, and she takes a deep, shuddering pull of air in an attempt to loosen the hold that her ribs have on her lungs.

'You're married. You have a _wife, _and-... And it should've been me. It should've been me. Shouldn't it?'

He stands still before her, jaw clenched tight, face unreadable.

Then, all at once, he moves, striding towards her, and his movements are rough but his hands are gentle as he takes her face between them.

In his eyes, she sees a lifetime.

But it doesn't belong to them.

'It should've been you.'

They stand for a long moment, wavering on the edge, breathing in each other's air, before their lips finally meet.

Katara knows that when she thinks of him in years to come, this will be the moment she remembers first. She will think of the way his fingers slip from the sides of her face into her hair, his touch excruciatingly tender in a way that has her sinking into him even further. She will think of the heat of his breath against her face and the way his kiss is salty with her tears or his tears or both. She will think of the soft groan that rises in his throat as she presses herself as close to him as she can, and the way his eyes mirror that heavy, pulsing, yearning _need _she feels when they pull apart.

Her voice cuts hoarse through the evening air.

'I'm leaving in the morning.'

'I know.'

'Aang's flying Sokka and I back to the South Pole.'

'I know.'

'I can come back. I can make it across the sea – I'll bend the waves away from me.'

'The journey's too far. It'll be night before you're halfway here. But I can come to you, I can light the way. I've travelled on rough seas before.'

'Not like this.'

He speaks soft against her neck.

'I love you.'

She lifts his head from the curve of her shoulder, presses a kiss to his lips, brushes her fingertips across the scar on his face just as she had in that first metamorphic moment so many breaths, so many heartbeats ago.

'Take me back to the palace.'

* * *

**Denouement**

Are you paying attention? It's getting late now, but this is the moment you've been waiting for. This is where the tides are swayed.

If the newly-married Fire Lady took any insult to the fact that her husband spent their wedding night in the company of another woman, this was never made known – a small mercy in the grand scheme of things, but a mercy nonetheless.

The day had not yet dawned when Katara woke in her place next to Zuko, the sky outside still dark as she ghosted a kiss to his temple and whispered him awake with her goodbyes. They rose together, shadows of sleep and sorrow pulled tight across their faces, and slowly, arduously, made their way through the sleeping palace to the place where Avatar Aang waited.

They remained wordless – what is there to be said when speaking will change nothing? Instead, when the packs had been secured and her brother and the Avatar sat in place aboard their flying steed, the two love-worn benders traded their final embraces, pressing insistent kisses to each other's skin, as if in the hopes that every one might finally be enough to sustain them once they'd parted.

As it happened, the last was a lingering brush of her lips against his before she pulled away completely.

As it happened, it was achingly clear as soon as she left his warmth that it wasn't enough, that nothing ever could be.

They knew, both of them, that although they might in time give their hands and bodies and voices to others, their hearts would never be their own to give again.

The bison rose into the air, whipping up a wind that sent dust stinging against the Fire Lord's face, and then, all too suddenly, their paths were diverging for the first time since they saw each other anew in the green light of the catacombs.

Katara left, flying away over the Southern Ocean towards her homeland, and as she did so she poured her power out to settle behind her on the surface of the water, scoring out a path that flowed calm through the sea amongst the wrath of the waves – a current to offer safe passage to Zuko from black-glass beach to icy shore

Zuko stayed, and from where he stood he felt the heat in him rise until it could no longer be contained, until he could do nothing else but release the flames scorching at his chest to flash into the air, spinning through the clouds to fasten firm in the sky all those leagues away above the South Pole – a beacon to throw the rocks into highlight, to make the icebergs gleam, to bring light to the dark that confined Katara to her frozen island.

And so their way was open.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Well, my child, now you know. Now you've heard the story of how two people changed the face of our world forever, bent the laws of nature so that they could claim back just a small part of what the world owed to them.

Katara and Zuko lived their lives apart, lived to every extent that they could, and by all accounts they did so in happiness. Few people pass their time on this earth with no regrets whatsoever – after all, to be human is to make mistakes, and mistakes so often lead to regret – but on looking back many would say that, despite this, they have lived well, and our heroes are no different.

Sometimes many a solstice would pass between journeys.

But journey they did, even as the years flew on, again and again to and fro across the sea always to find themselves back in the other's embrace – him carried by her current, her led by his light.

It is said, though of course there is no way of knowing for sure, that when the time came that their bodies grew weary and sought their final rest, Katara breathed her last in the same moment Zuko's heart found its peace.

Those who were present here in the South Pole passed down the tale – they swore that as the life left Katara, the seas fell still for the first time. And as they looked to the skies, the lights that had been static their whole lives began to flow through the heavens, rivers of fire winding their way between the stars.

Legend has it that when the night is dark and the aurora is at its brightest, if you stand on the edge of the cliffs and gaze out to the line where the lights meet the tides, you can catch two silhouettes moving across the horizon.

Go now and see, child, see if you can spot them – Katara and her Zuko. Flames dancing on the sea.

**A/N: One day I'll let them be happy post-Agni Kai. But not today.**

**Can you tell that this was also a big exercise in structure and narrative for me? So much signposting but I'm not even sorry - I had great fun writing the storyteller's sections and figuring out how the pieces all fit together.**

**If you enjoyed this fic and you haven't already had a look at my WIP, then give it a shot! It's called Forged In Flames, and it's basically a Zutara version of the last few episodes of canon which then extends out and shows us their journey beyond the series. It's twelve chapters at the moment, but it's gonna be real long so check it out.**

**Love to all, happy festive period!**


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